


Lie Back and Think of Camelot

by hermette



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-04
Updated: 2010-03-04
Packaged: 2017-10-07 17:31:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/67485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermette/pseuds/hermette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just your average Sex!Slave!Arthur!AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lie Back and Think of Camelot

Arthur Pendragon woke abruptly. He sat upright in his bed and looked blearily around his chambers, trying to asses if something was amiss, if there was something that would have awoken him but he could see nothing out of place. A small fire was banked low in the fire place, his curtains were pulled closed tightly against the early morning sunshine. He scrubbed his hands over his face and tried to recall his dream. It was ... there was ... red, he remembered. Miles and miles of red. And what else? Arthur closed his eyes tightly and reached for the memory, but it had already faded away.

A knock sounded at his door and Arthur said, "Enter," rolling his eyes a bit when Merlin stumbled in, awkward under the weight of a heavily laden tray of food.

"Good morning, sire," he said, depositing his tray on the table and unloading it. Arthur grunted at him. Did he have to be so bloody cheerful in the morning? "I trust you slept well."

"Not particularly, no," Arthur replied. He climbed out of bed and padded over to the table. "I had the oddest dream."

"Oh?" Merlin said, barely feigning interest. Arthur tried to scowl up at him, but had to look away. Why did his eyes have to be so damn blue? It hurt Arthur's head to look at them this early in the day.

"Yes," he snapped. "It was ..."

Merlin filled a goblet with water and handed it to Arthur. "It was ... " he prompted.

"It was ... I don't really remember."

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "All right."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing," said Merlin. He finished with the tray and dusted his hands off. "If that's all --"

"Merlin," Arthur said, invoking his best don't-lie-to-me voice.

"It's just ... you had the strangest dream, but you don't remember it. You don't think that's odd?"

"Now you're calling me odd?"

"No!" Merlin said quickly, holding up his hands. "Just that you're acting a bit strange this morning."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Strange how?"

Merlin looked around the room helplessly. "Strange ... like me?"

Arthur felt the corner of his mouth quirk up. "So very strange indeed."

Merlin grinned and looked Arthur full in the face and there, a flash of _something_, as stunning as talking a sword hilt to the head. _Merlin_. Arthur reeled as an image of Merlin's face, grinning, a hint of something unspeakable etched into his features swam into focus. He swayed on his feet and Merlin reached for him. "Arthur?" he said. Arthur yanked his arm away. "Perhaps you should go back to bed."

"No!" Arthur shouted. And then "no," a bit more softly. "That's the last thing I need."

He let Merlin make up a ridiculous excuse about being needed in the kitchen. When he was gone, Arthur sat down and stared at his breakfast until it was cold.

~*~

Arthur didn't sleep for two nights. It was only when he nodded off in a meeting with his father that he realized that just never sleeping again wasn't a very good plan. He let Merlin make up another excuse and escort him to his chambers. Merlin pulled off his boots and shoved him into bed fully clothed. He was asleep before he hit the pillows.

~*~

Heat. Sweaty, desperate, a shade short of unbearable. Arthur moaned and tried to move away from the heat but it followed him. His hands shot out to fend it off, but he swung into empty air. Then there was pressure, choking, agonizing pressure on his chest. Then there was nothing.

~*~

He was woken by something cool against his face. He moaned and heard a chuckle so very near his ear his bones shook with it.

"Dreaming about me?"

He flipped over abruptly, nearly smacking Merlin in the face with his arm as he did so.

"Careful," Merlin said softly. "You know I hate to punish you."

"Merlin?" Arthur gasped.

"Unless you've been in someone else's bed, in which case we'll seriously need to address the subject of punishment."

"What the hell?" Arthur said frantically, pushing himself up onto his elbows and looking around. He was ... yes, he was in his own chambers, but they were all wrong. The furniture wasn't his, his belongings were gone and the bed -- the bed was covered with linens so deeply and utterly red that they made Arthur blush. "What's going on?"

"Arthur," Merlin said questioningly, "Are you all right? Have you been in my wine again?"

"_Your_ wine--" Arthur tried to say, but he found himself quite suddenly with a mouthful of Merlin's tongue. He tried to shout but all that seemed to do was give Merlin leave to plunder his mouth more fully. He gripped the sides of Arthur's face, not gently, and licked into him again and again and again, and Merlin was surprisingly strong, and it was, frankly, not at all un-enjoyable, and Arthur eventually had no choice but to hang on and let it happen.

When Merlin finally pulled away, Arthur leaned after him for a moment, forgetting himself.

"No," Merlin said and Arthur blinked up at him. "Not wine, though you do taste remarkable." He licked his lips and Arthur unconsciously followed the movement of his tongue.

"I--" he tried. "You ... Merlin, what--"

"I do have some things to do," Merlin said softly, dragging his fingers across Arthur's jaw. "But it is such a nice evening, and you look so beautiful in it." His eyes skimmed over Arthur's face. "I think I'll go ahead and have you now."

And his voice, _Merlin's voice_ like _that_ and his brilliant mouth was back on Arthur's and it took Arthur a full minute to catch up. When he did, he wrenched his mouth away and shoved at Merlin's chest.

"_Have_ me? What the-- I don't fucking _think_\--"

"Arthur," Merlin said wearily, "Did you not hear the bit about my having actual, important things to do this evening?"

"I don't fucking care what you--"

Merlin drew back and Arthur had one horrifying, delicious moment to wonder if Merlin might actually _strike him_, and then Merlin's hand closed around his throat. His face loomed over Arthur's, dangerous and unreadable and no longer could Arthur pretend this was a dream. He was so hard he _ached_.

"Merlin," he gasped, scrabbling at the fingers wrapped around his throat.

"Do not test me, Pendragon," Merlin whispered, "Not tonight."

And this his hand was gone. Arthur gulped in sweet air and then exhaled it just as quickly as Merlin dropped his weight down, pinning Arthur to the bed and licking away the ache in his neck. He gasped, reached up and clutched Merlin's hair, pulled him close, pushed him away, clawed at the unlikely luxury of the robe he wore.

"Forgive me," Merlin whispered into his ear. He licked the outer rim of it and then down, down his neck, past the dip in his collarbone, open mouthed kisses down the length of his chest. It was only then that Arthur realized how very naked he was and how very, very little he cared about that. He thrust up, trying to get friction and Merlin chuckled darkly at him.

"You may touch yourself," he granted. There was no room in his head for indignation. Arthur simply relinquished his grip on Merlin's hair and wrapped a hand around his aching cock. A groan tore from his wrecked throat, he felt raw, unhinged, unable to do anything except lie there and stroke his own cock watching as Merlin pushed himself off the bed and pulled his robe over his head.

The play of muscles across his stomach and chest was, frankly, startling. Arthur had never really thought there was much to Merlin, skinny and narrow as he was, but like this he could see the strength in him, the _power_ and his cock gave another throb at the site.

"What is happening?" he whispered and Merlin grinned. He climbed back onto the bed and crawled up the length of Arthur's body. He straddled his chest and walked forward on his knees until his cock was looming in Arthur's vision and he had no choice but to look, to take in that elegant length already slick at the tip.

"I'd have thought you'd figured this out by now, Arthur. This is me fucking you."

He stroked his cock once and aimed it at Arthur's mouth and it struck Arthur with an unbelievable force, that the time to stop this was _right fucking now_, but this was Merlin, _Merlin_, whom he trusted with his life, who had so eagerly offered up his own in his stead, who would never, ever hurt him.

Arthur's tongue came out and licked the tip of Merlin's cock. Merlin hummed low in his throat. He sounded pleased and it drove spikes of heat through Arthur's body.

He opened his mouth and forgot who he was.

~*~

"--powerful."

"Exceedingly."

"How could this have happened?"

"Sorcery, Your Highness. Only the most--"

Arthur tried to moan, but no sound came out. His throat was on fire; he opened his mouth to ask for water. No sound came out. Panicked, Arthur tried to force his body to do _anything_, his arms or legs to move, his eyes to open, his mouth to speak.

Nothing happened.

~*~

"Water," Arthur croaked. He cracked an eye and looked around. He could see nothing but a blur of colors, blue, red, brown. He blinked rapidly, drawing back suddenly as a glass of water appeared in his vision. There was nothing attached to the glass, no hand or arm, it was simply floating there in mid-air and Arthur thought, _well, there you go. I've finally gone mad. _

He sat up in the bed and the glass followed him. He rubbed his eyes and glanced around again, eyes settling on Merlin, standing at the foot of the bed with raised eyebrows.

"What?"

"I thought you were thirsty."

The glass had followed Arthur into a sitting position. He stared it stupidly. Comprehension dawned slowly and he looked back up at Merlin. So much suddenly made sense.

"You're a sorcerer."

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Yes."

"You're ... you can do magic."

The glass of water rapped him lightly in the head and Merlin fought down a grin. "Yes."

"You're ... that's ... you're doing magic right now. In the castle."

At this, Merlin frowned. He walked around the bed and plucked the glass out of the air. He sat down on the bed and pressed it into Arthur's hand, then touched Arthur's head.

"Are you well, Arthur?

"I'm--"

A knock sounded and the door swung open. Gwen entered, carrying a tray of food. "Gwen," Arthur squeaked, and he yanked the sheets up his chest. Gwen squeaked as well, her eyes darting in his direction. She tripped over the rug and the food went flying. Quick as a flash, Merlin was off the bed. He caught Gwen with one arm and with the other, swept his hand through the air and all the food sailed back onto the tray. Merlin grabbed the tray and placed it on the table.

"I'm sorry," Gwen breathed. "Merlin, I wasn't ... he isn't--"

Her eyes darted back to Arthur and she wrung her hands. "Gwen, it's fine. Don't worry about it. And Arthur, he's ... he's been off. I don't think he's well."

"Should I fetch Gaius?"

"If he's not recovered shortly," Merlin said and Arthur wanted to scream at them to stop talking about him like he wasn't in the bloody room. But something in Merlin's expression kept him from doing soe. He could still glare, though, so he did so quite vehemently as they finished their discussion and Gwen took her leave. When she was gone, Arthur climbed out of bed and stormed, nakedness be damned, over to Merlin.

"I insist upon seeing my father."

Merlin's eyes widened and he reeled as though he's been struck. "Your father? Arthur, are you ... I think you ought to go lie down."

"As enjoyable as last night was," Arthur said and he almost managed the level of sarcasm he was aiming for, "I think I'll take a pass. Where is my father?"

"Arthur--"

"No!" Arthur shouted. He shoved Merlin in the chest. "I am Arthur Pendragon, Crown Prince of Camelot and I demand you take me to my father."

Firm hands wrapped around his arms and Arthur allowed Merlin to handle him into a chair. He was shivering. He looked desperately at the fire, the flames leapt higher. He turned back to Merlin, whose hand was extended towards the flames.

"Better?" he asked. Arthur nodded.

"Tell me the last thing you remember."

Arthur flushed. Merlin smiled kindly. "Before last night."

"I remember, I was in my bed--"

"My bed or your bed?

"Seems like they're one and the same," Arthur snapped. Merlin smile twisted and knelt down in front of Arthur, resting his hands on his knees.

"I'm not asking how things appear, I'm asking what you remember."

Arthur closed his eyes and tried to remember. "I remember you bringing me breakfast."

"Why would I bring you breakfast?" His voice was gentle and Arthur tried not to lash out at him.

"Because you're my servant."

"And you're the crown prince of Camelot?"

"Yes."

"Am I a sorcerer?"

"I don't -- maybe. If you are, you never told me, but there were -- things happen around you, Merlin. Yeah, probably."

"And Mercia?"

Arthur opened his eyes and frowned. "What about it?"

"Are you at war?"

"No."

"Were you?"

"Not ... I don't understand."

Merlin sighed deeply and raked his hands through his messy hair. "A year ago," he said "You rebelled against your father--"

"I would never--" Arthur began, rising to his feet. Merlin shoved him back into his chair.

"You left, took command of an army of Mercian soldiers. You marched on Camelot."

Arthur felt like all the air was being pushed from his lungs. There was no way -- never -- he would _never_ march on Camelot.

"You were enchanted," Merlin said softly.

"What happened."

"I -- I stopped you."

Arthur opened his eyes. The expression on Merlin's face was unreadable.

"What happened?"

"Your father, from you -- what you remember--"

"He hates sorcery."

"Yes," Merlin said. "He still does. I had to use magic to save you, right in front of him. I thought he would kill me."

"Yet you did it anyway."

"To save you."

Arthur swallowed hard. "Yet you did it anyway."

Merlin exhaled and tilted his head to one side. The gesture was so familiar, so dear in the midst of this overwhelming confusion and Arthur felt his hands wrap around Merlin's wrists. "What else could I do?"

"What--" Arthur cleared his throat against the tightness there. "What then?"

"You convinced your father to spare my life. You said that as long as our enemies use magic, we must defend ourselves with magic as well."

"And he agreed?"

Merlin gave a bit of a laugh. "His own son had been enchanted against him. What else could he do?"

"So how did I--"

"You know how Uther is," Merlin said. "He has to have somewhere to direct his rage. He said he would never allow someone so weak--" Arthur bristled and Merlin pulled his wrists from of Arthur's grasp, then linked their fingers together. "--someone so weak as to be enchanted against their own kingdom to take the thrown. He took your crown. He ... made you a servant. He gave you to me."

"You're a sorcerer. Why could you possibly need a servant?"

Merlin pressed his lips together.

"For sex," Arthur said slowly. "I'm ... what? That's my job? Lie back and think of Camelot?"

"I'm sorry," Merlin said softly. "I know this can't be easy to hear."

Arthur pulled his hands free and dropped his head into them. After a few moments, he felt a warm blanket wrap around his shoulders. There was a brief pressure on his shoulder and Merlin said "I'll fetch the court physician."

Then Arthur was alone.

~*~

Gaius was as thorough as ever. He could find no physical reason for Arthur's, in his words, unfortunate situation. He left him with a sleeping potion and told him to get some sleep. He said he would speak with Merlin and secure him a few days off of his duties. Arthur buried his head in his arms and blushed so deeply it burned.

~*~

Perhaps it was because there were no sex slaves in _his_ Camelot, but it didn't occur to Arthur that of course he wouldn't share Merlin's bed. Merlin's large, soft, impossibly warm bed. Instead, he had a narrow cot covered with rough sheets and scratchy blankets and after three nights, Arthur felt like he would gladly lie back and let Merlin climb on top of him and take him any way he pleased if it meant a night in the luxury of his bed.

Another day passed and then another and then a week and still Merlin didn't send for him. The time didn't do anything to dull Arthur's memories and there was something like guilt pressing in at the back of his head. He needed to find his way back, Camelot _needed_ him. But the only possible solution Arthur could think of was magic and the only sorcerer he knew didn't seem inclined to spend any time in his company.

One morning, a week and a half later, Arthur was gathering herbs for Gaius for want of anything else to do when he spotted Merlin across the courtyard. He was studying the sky intensely, the sunlight glinting off his dark hair. The line of his spine, the strength in him was overwhelming and Arthur let himself simply stand there and look. How had he never noticed how beautiful Merlin was?

And then, as though he'd felt someone watching, Merlin turned and saw him. He smiled, a little wistful and began to walk towards Arthur.

It took every ounce of self control he possessed to not step backwards. When Merlin reached him, he reached out and ran a thumb along the frayed cuff of Arthur's jacket. "Hello."

"Hello."

"How are you?"

"I'm well."

"Your--" Merlin paused. "Your memories?"

Arthur shook his head. "The same."

"All right," Merlin said, and he swept his thumb across Arthur's wrist, the rapid pulse fluttering there. "All right. "

~*~

Merlin called for him that night. Arthur thought his heart might bang it's way out of his chest before he made it to the familiar doors of his old chambers. He knocked once and Merlin called "Enter."

Arthur stepped into the room. Merlin was seated at the table, a veritable feast laid before him. "Arthur," he said. "Come in."

"I'm already in."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Then come and sit. Are you hungry? I have some of those pastries you like so much."

He wasn't hungry, but he walked over and sat down anyway. He picked up on of the pastries and nibbled around the edges. He eyed the bed nervously. How exactly was he supposed to eat?

"Your father grows suspicious," Merlin said finally and any appetite Arthur had flew out the window. He laid the pastry on the table.

"Of me?"

"Of me. I haven't sent for you."

"Oh." Arthur picked at a loose thread on the hem of his shirt. "Why haven't you sent for me?"

Merlin sighed. "Arthur." He rubbed his eyes wearily. "I don't know what you ... from what you remember or believe to be truth, I don't know what you think of me. And after that first night, I can't expect you to believe me, but Arthur, I would never take you without your permission."

"Permission?" Arthur scoffed. He could feel heat flooding his face. "You need permission from your sex slaves?"

"It isn't like that between us."

"What is it like, then?" And if his voice was bitter, well, Arthur supposed that was only to be expected.

Merlin sighed again. "I had a bath drawn for you. I know how you love it."

Arthur saw then the tub in the corner and the steam rising from it. His expression must have been one of yearning, for Merlin laughed and tugged him to his feet. He led Arthur over to the tub and pulled his shirt over his head and then knelt and began to unlace his trousers. And the action was so familiar, and Merlin looked so beautiful in it. How on earth had he possible have missed this? How had he overlooked his eyelashes so dark against his pale checks, the gentle curve of his neck? Arthur felt his cock harden slightly against the laces of his trousers and Merlin grinned up at him.

"Excited about your bath, are you?"

Arthur colored. "Fuck you."

"Not very imaginative, but it does have potential." He slid the fabric down Arthur's legs, letting his palms graze his thighs. Arthur hardened further.

"Are you--" He swallowed and indicated the water with a nod of his head. '"Are you coming in?"

Merlin smiled a little and shook his head. He walked back to the table and sat down. Arthur climbed into the tub and let the warm water wash over him. He didn't know how long he sat there, but he knew that it was long enough for the water to go entirely cold, and yet the temperature never changed at all. He twisted his head around and found Merlin watching him, his eyes hooded. When he saw Arthur watching, he pushed himself out of his chair and walked across the room, clothes coming off as he walked. Arthur swallowed hard.

"Are you ... you're doing something to the water."

"Slide up," Merlin said. Arthur complied and Merlin slid into the tub behind him. His cock was rock hard, pressed up against the small of Arthur's back. "Head back," he said. Arthur let his head fall back onto Merlin's shoulder and Merlin conjured a jug from nowhere, filled it and began pouring it over Arthur's head, the fingers of his free hand working against his scalp.

"I'm sorry you don't remember," he said. His hips were working slowly against Arthur's back. "I am, truly. But that you don't -- it doesn't change anything. You still belong to me. I'm so sorry, but you do." Long hands smoothed down his chest, swept broad stripes across his hip bones and then came back up. "Isn't that right, Arthur? Aren't you mine?"

And he was. There was no way to deny it. How else could Merlin turn him into a boneless, wanting heap unless he had some sort of power of him? And he _wanted _ it, wanted Merlin to take him and possess him and own him. He couldn't even work up the energy to be mortified by it. He was using every ounce of his self-control to not rut back against Merlin.

But Merlin knew that as well. "It's fine," he said firmly. "You may move. I give you leave to move in whatever way occurs to you."

So he thrust back against Merlin and then Merlin's hands moved lower, one tugging at his balls and the other wrapping around his cock and Arthur didn't know which way to move. He gripped the edges of the tub and let Merlin fuck up against him, cock pressed tightly against his back. They rocked waves into the water, it lapped at the sides and eventually began to spill over. Merlin stood and hauled Arthur to his feet. He spun him around and kissed him, possessively, the same way he had on that first night. Arthur moaned into it and buried his hands in Merlin's damp hair, let his tongue be sucked into Merlin's mouth.

Then he tossed Arthur, soaking wet, onto the bed and spread out above his body. "Tell me yes," he panted. "I need you to tell me yes."

"Yes," Arthur groaned, arching up, trying to find more of that delicious friction.

Then the body against his was gone. Arthur cried out, but Merlin was back the next second, swallowing his cries. He sensed Merlin's hands moving beside him, then a hand hooked behind his knee and spread him open. A slick finger skirted the edge of his entrance, then pressed relentlessly in.

Arthur gasped.

"You've --" Merlin stilled above him. "You don't remember this, do you?"

Arthur shook his head violently. He body was trembling around the intrusion. No, no he didn't remember this, was certain he'd never done this, was _certain_ he'd remember it because it was wrong, so very wrong and so good, so very, very good. He felt the hand within him withdraw and he tried to clench his arse around it.

"Don't."

"Arthur, I'm not--"

"Take me," he demanded, looking up, eyes locking with Merlin's. "Take me. If I belong to you, take me."

And so he did, he did, opening him roughly and then rolling him up onto his shoulders and fucking into his body, owning him, relentless in it and Arthur could only cry out with the unbearable agony of it and then the unbearable pleasure. He was something outside of himself, removed from his body. Nothing existed, there was nothing in the world except Merlin's cock and his own arse. And then suddenly a hand wrapped around his cock and he slammed back into his own body, coming in a blinding rush of light, pleasure curling his fingers and toes.

It seemed endless. But eventually, it ended. Sore and shaken and exhausted to his bones, Arthur closed his eyes and slept.

~*~

Days passed. Arthur's memories never faded. They consumed too much space in his head, pressing down on him. Every day, Merlin would ask him about it, what he remembered. His dreams, Merlin called them. But they weren't dreams. Arthur slept, but he never dreamed.

Then one day, late in the afternoon, Merlin appeared in his chambers, a half smile on his face. "Arthur," he said. "Come with me."

Arthur hesitated. He hated leaving Merlin's chambers, hated the way everyone looked through him and never at him. Merlin had explained gently that no one was supposed to address him or be addressed by him, which was why he'd nearly given Gwen a heart attack that first morning. but he couldn't bring himself to deny Merlin. Merlin, dear, dear Merlin, who was holding him together with his bare hands.

He needn't have worried, though. The corridors were deserted. Merlin led him by the hand through the familiar hallways until finally, they stood in front of the closed door to the throne room. Heart pounding, Arthur said "Merlin, I don't think--"

"Trust me," Merlin said and he pushed the door open. The room was empty.

"There's a tournament," he explained. He pulled Arthur in and closed the door.

"Ah," said Arthur. He cast a wistful glance at the windows.

"Do you miss it?"

"No," Arthur lied.

Merlin led him across the room, moving toward Uther's throne. When he tried to resist, Merlin wrapped his hands around his arms and shoved him. After a struggle that left them both breathless, Arthur found himself standing not two feet form the throne where his father must have stripped him of his crown, of his birthright. His breath hitched in his chest.

"One day," Merlin said, his voice soft in Arthur's ear. "One day, your father will be gone and Camelot will need a king."

"I hardly think--"

"Your destiny," Merlin went on, fingers digging into Arthur's arms, "lies here. You will be a great king, Arthur. You will bring peace and prosperity to your people. I will restore you to your throne, Arthur, I swear that to you."

Arthur's vision blurred. He turned in Merlin's hands, expecting to have to fight against his grip, but Merlin released him. Arthur leaned towards him, wanting his embrace, his comfort, but Merlin dropped to his knees and took Arthur's hand in his.

"Will you take my oath, my lord?"

"I--" Arthur swallowed against the grainy tightness in his throat.

"I do swear you fealty. My life and my magic are yours to command."

"I accept your oath," Arthur whispered and Merlin pressed a kiss to his hand, to the spot where his ring had once rested. He didn't release his hand though, just turned it over and pressed his open palm to his cheek. Arthur lifted his other hand, let it rest on the gloss of Merlin's hair.

They fucked slowly that night, so slowly Arthur wanted to weep. He didn't cry, though. He just wrapped his arms around Merlin and clung.

~*~

"Arthur? Arthur, can you hear me?"

"His heartbeat is far too rapid, Highness. I fear--"

"Arthur!"

His throat was on fire. He opened his mouth to beg for water, but no sound came. His lips were dry, cracked, bleeding. He tried again and this time he said "Merlin."

As though he'd conjured him, Merlin appeared in front of him. He looked young, so beautiful. "Merlin," he whispered.

"Arthur."

"Thirsty," he said.

Something cool passed his lips. Water. Arthur drank it greedily. When it was gone, he turned grateful eyes back to Merlin.

"I need you to come with me," Merlin said.

"What's happening?"

Merlin smiled sadly. "I need you to come with me."

For a thousand reasons he could never name, he trusted him. He put his hand in Merlin's.

~*~

Gentle hands settled cool sheets over him. Arthur forced his eyes open, blinking into the harsh light. "Wha--" he managed.

"Sire!" Something crashed to the floor and Arthur winced at the noise. "Gwen," he groaned. She appeared at his side in an instant and Arthur drank in her features.

"Oh, Arthur. We all thought-- oh, my god, I'm so--I must go, your father--"

"Gwen," he said again, when he could make his throat work. "Where is Merlin?"

~*~

The prison guards nearly fell over when they saw him, though whether it was from shock at his miraculous return from death's door or his pale countenance, he did not know. He was dressed like Prince Arthur, Gwen had seen to that with a blush on her cheeks and fumbling hands and he spoke like Prince Arthur, but he felt like someone brand new. He glared at the guards until they bowed and moved out of his way and then he threw open the cell door and found Merlin.

"Arthur," he cried. He fell to the ground and wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist. "You're alive, you're alive."

"Merlin," he breathed, and then he was on his knees beside him. "Merlin, what happened?"

Heedless of propriety or his filthy hands or the guards just outside, Merlin was running his hands all over Arthur's body, his face, his shoulders, slipping into the place where his shirt opened at his throat and settling heavy above his heart. "When they brought me here, I thought for sure--"

"I'm fine, Merlin, as you can feel for yourself. But you, Merlin, _what happened_?"

Merlin began to prattle on about an evil sorcerer, about the enchantment she'd placed on Arthur, about the near death state he'd been in for a month, all information Gwen had already relayed with a shaking voice. The kingdom had wept, fearing their prince dead. His father had mourned, had raged and stormed, slept in a chair at Arthur's bedside. Arthur couldn't spare a thought for any of them. His only concern was Merlin.

"Merlin, what are you doing here?"

"Your father," he choked out. "I had to save you, Arthur, I had to. I couldn't--"

"You're a sorcerer," Arthur said and Merlin dropped his head and nodded.

"I'm sorry."

"Hey," Arthur said, tipping Merlin's chin up. "Didn't you save my life? More than once, I would imagine. Don't apologize to me."

Merlin gave a choked laugh. "But I lied to you, over and over again, Arthur, I lied to you."

"What else could you do?"

"Arthur," Merlin whispered fiercely, lifting his face. His eyes were shockingly blue, rimmed in pink and Arthur felt something tighten in his chest. "I do not regret this for a moment. Never think that, never wish I had chosen otherwise. I would trade my life for yours a thousand times over. I gladly do so now."

"Merlin," he said firmly. "I will right this wrong. I will see you released. Do you believe me?"

The hand on his chest flexed, fingers gripping him tightly. After what seemed like an eternity, Merlin nodded.

~*~

Arthur slammed into the throne room without knocking. Uther rose immediately, face gone white. "Arthur," he breathed and the scores of people attending their king dropped to their knees.

"Release Merlin immediately," he demanded and Uther staggered backward as though struck.

"You cannot--"

"Immediately," he said, coming to stand before his father. "He saved my life, countless times. I won't see him lose his own as a result."

"Arthur, we will discuss this--"

Never before would Arthur have raised his voice to his father in public like this, but he was furious, exhausted and beyond all reason. "There is nothing to discuss. I demand that you release him immediately."

Barely breathing, they stared at one another. Arthur could see both the king and the father in Uther in that moment. He could see what his illness had cost his father, and what his defiance was costing him now, and he had no idea what he would do if his Uther refused. He'd not got quite that far in his plan yet. All he knew was that he would not allow Merlin to be taken from him, no matter what the cost. Finally, Uther raised a level hand and pointed at Arthur.

"On your head, be it," he said. "I release him to you. I will hold you solely responsible for his actions."

Arthur bowed. "There is no greater honor you could bestow upon me," he said. Never turning his back to the king, he kept his head lowered and backed out of the room. When the doors closed behind him, he turned and ran.

~*~

Arthur came to himself slowly, without opening his eyes. The sheet beneath his cheek was smooth, the pillow soft. His blankets were warm and the solid bulk of Merlin's body behind him was comforting. Arthur knew that when he opened his eyes, he'd find himself in his own bed, in his own castle. But it didn't feel like that. It didn't feel like he was inside anything.

_~fin~_


End file.
